Cupid's Arrow
by vanityfair
Summary: Sequel to Under the Mistletoe. Snape plans to use a cupid to make Hermione more receptive of his attentions. But plans rarely go the way they are meant to. Now COMPLETE.
1. St Mungo's

**Cupid's Arrow**

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

A/N: This is a SEQUEL folks. Maybe it stands on its own, maybe it wobbles slightly before toppling over, or maybe you should just read "Under the Mistletoe." Either way I hope you enjoy it, but even if you don't please let me know in a review at the end…it's the only way I'll ever get better.

**Chapter One—St. Mungo's**

"I hope you're happy," Severus Snape snarled from his hospital bed while the Healer flitted around, waving her wand and muttering diagnostic charms.

"Of course I'm not happy," Hermione snapped back. She stood in the corner of the room, wringing her hands. "For one thing the potion is completely ruined."

She stepped out of the way as the Healer left the room, leaving the two of them alone. Hermione suddenly felt nervous. She didn't know how he would react; she hadn't meant to throw that last hex, not really, anyway. But he could be so infuriating sometimes. She knew that working together wouldn't be a good idea. She had tried to tell him that but he refused to listen.

"You seem to be alright," he said with only a slight trace of bitterness in his voice.

"Yes, well, just a quick counter-charm and they let me go," she said a bit chagrined.

"Your dueling skills have improved considerably."

Was that a bit of admiration in his voice? Maybe he had forgiven her. She debated if she should tell him she was sorry. It wasn't true of course; he had started it after all, constantly griping at her. She couldn't help it if his handwriting was indecipherable. It had happened in the past and it had happened today with disastrous results. It really was a good thing that she liked him, otherwise he might never be leaving that hospital bed. But maybe a quick apology would be in order to smooth things over.

'No,' she thought, 'If I apologize every time he ended up in a snit then I would never say anything else.' Of course this fight, argument, all out battle, however she wanted to term it had ended somewhat differently than their others. This time no one had walked in on them, complaining about the noise. Perhaps it really would be better if they didn't work in such close proximity.

"I don't think…," she started. She really didn't know how to tell him that she had accepted a job working for the Weasley twins.

He quirked his eyebrow at her, melting her irritation that had built over the last two hours, resulting in her having to have her nose charmed back on and him lying in a hospital bed.

"I don't think we should work together anymore," she said quickly. His mouth turned slightly upwards in what Hermione suspected was a suppressed smile before his expression turned sour.

"Please, I'm too tired to handle your melodrama right now," he said.

She forced a smile. Taking his hand in hers, she sat in the chair next to his bed.

"I'm not being melodramatic," she said. "I'm being serious."

Explaining her position carefully, it went almost exactly like she had planned, (having had written an outline and practiced several times throughout the week.) And today only solidified her argument.

For one moment she wondered if she was doing the right thing, he looked so distressed at her words. But then she reminded herself and him that it was better this way. This way they were free to pursue their relationship outside of class. He begrudgingly agreed and she promised to make it up to him.

"I'll let you try my new potions before they hit the shelves," she promised with a sly grin.

"If you even try and slip me one of those Weasley products you're going to lose more than your nose," he threatened.

Her smile widened. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. No longer hindered by their unequal relationship of apprentice and master, they could focus on getting to know each other better. It made her happy and a little nervous.

&&&

When Severus had plotted to convince Hermione to find another apprenticeship he never envisioned he would find himself in St. Mungo's where the Healers were scrambling to put his insides back in order. Apparently, it wasn't healthy to have your heart and liver swap spots.

"And here I thought Scary Snape didn't have a heart," the nurse had said while she filled out the admission forms. She had been a former student, though he couldn't remember which house. If he had, he would have been sure to deduct points the moment he was released, but as it was he was stuck in bed. If they hadn't relieved him of his wand, he certainly would have showed her his idea of 'scary.'

When Hermione came in, he couldn't help but feel a little aggravated to see that she appeared just fine, her nose firmly attached to her face, while he still lay in this bed subject to the ministrations of the less than qualified staff of St. Mungo's, if the nurse was any indication.

But another feeling soon overcame his exasperation and it took him a moment to realize that it was relief. He was relieved to see that she was okay. It had been unsettling to see her with her nose half hanging from her face, especially knowing that he had been the one to cause it. He wasn't used to this feeling and he almost preferred the irritation. Irritation was his old friend, it was comfortable, and he knew what to do with it.

But then she smiled and held his hand and he decided that he would trade comfortable irritation for worried affection any day. Besides that, the plan he had put into motion was proving to be a success.

"It's not that I don't want to be around you," she explained.

"Then what?" he asked snidely. He couldn't let her think that he liked the idea. He didn't want to contemplate what she might say if she learned that he had been trying to get rid of her this entire time.

"Well, to be honest…I don't really like Professor Snape," she said.

His chest tightened suddenly and his airway constricted. Had he taken it too far? He had yet to fail any of her potions but that hadn't stopped him from criticizing every little mistake she made, and some that she didn't.

"But I really like Severus," she finished. He let out a small sigh, hoping she hadn't seen his momentary panic. In truth, he agreed with her. He liked Professor Snape alright, but Miss Granger grated at his nerves until he, well, hexed her nose right off.

"I really think…" he started to agree.

"No, let me finish," she interrupted before launching back into her speech. He realized with amusement that she had carefully prepared her argument. Picturing her practicing it in front of a mirror, he almost smiled. He didn't of course, he couldn't give himself away. When she finished he tried to look dismayed rather than delighted.

"I suppose in consideration for my future safety I should agree," he said, looking at her sternly. He didn't want her to forget that she was the reason he was lying in this hospital bed. She nodded.

"I'll still see you?" he asked, sounding a little too desperate for his own taste. Whatever potion they had given him must be affecting both his tongue and his mind.

"Of course you will," she reassured him. He hoped he would be seeing a lot more of her actually, letting his eyes drift down to her chest. Professor Snape would never sleep with one of his students, but luckily for him, as of today Hermione was no longer his student.


	2. Letters

**Chapter Two—Letters**

Severus had thought that persuading Hermione to take an apprenticeship elsewhere would be the difficult part. That once he was free to court her everything would naturally fall into place, and they would fall into bed. Looking down at his arm, he realized of course that most things did not turn out the way he planned them and generally were harder than he had anticipated.

The truth of the matter was that he had never courted anyone before, not successfully anyway. And he desperately didn't want to mess things up with Hermione.

The last several weeks had been sublime except for the time they spent together in the lab. It had been a little awkward after that first kiss, both remembering the next morning of course that they would have to return to their roles as apprentice and master. But after class they often sat by his fireside, sipping coffee and talking or playing chess.

She played quite well and he had even let her win a few times—the look of joy on her face as she captured his king was worth it. If he had been the sentimental sort he might have admitted that she was slowly capturing his heart as well, but he wasn't the type.

He did wonder, however, when one had to stop asking permission to kiss one's date and could just grab her by the shoulders and plant his lips on hers. Maybe now that her apprenticeship had been terminated he wouldn't have to worry so much about propriety's sake.

But as he sat at his desk several days later, he wondered if it had been such a good idea to let her go at all. Since she had started working for the Weasley's he hadn't seen much more of Hermione other than to help her move her some of her things from the castle to a tiny flat she had rented in Hogsmeade. She had promised that she would still see him but she hadn't visited, flooed, or even sent an owl.

With dismay he realized that he might be missing her. That was ludicrous, of course he didn't miss people; he missed the quiet and solitude of his private quarters, he missed the summers—the only time he was free of students, but he certainly didn't miss his apprentice.

Except that he did.

Maybe she was waiting for him to make the first move. It was an awkward situation after all, having formerly been apprentice and master. He had assured her over and over again that he agreed with her decision to work for the Weasleys short of admitting his plot to rid himself of her. But perhaps she still required reassurance.

Taking up pen and paper, he quickly composed a short note asking her to dinner.

* * *

A large tawny owl flew in her small window, dropping an envelope on the table. Hermione scrambled through the yet unpacked boxes in her tiny kitchen, looking for something to give the bird for its trouble, but all she could find was a package of very stale biscuits.

"I'm afraid that's all I have," she told it as it turned away and lifted its beak in the air. She tried to scratch its head but it flew off before she got the chance. Picking up the note, her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the dark green seal as Severus'. She had been so busy moving and starting her new job that she hadn't had much time for anything else and to tell the truth she had been a little nervous after his reaction at the hospital.

Opening the letter she read,

_Hermione,_

_I have been experiencing a slight discomfort in my chest for several days now that I first attributed to indigestion, (if you had to eat the slop these house elves call meals then you would understand.) When it failed to stop even after the stern talking to I gave the kitchen staff and after trying several different potions, I realized I might instead be missing you._

_When you said we would still see each other I had assumed you meant sooner rather than later. If you aren't already previously engaged would you meet me for dinner tomorrow night at The Three Broomsticks?_

_Severus_

Well, it wasn't the romantic love letter most girls expected but then Hermione had never really been like 'most girls.' Good thing, she decided. If she wanted romantic verses and moonlight serenades then she had picked the wrong man. She only hoped that he was kidding her about yelling at the house elves. He knew where she stood on that issue even if she had abandoned SPEW years ago.

Sitting down, she reread the letter and absently reached for a stale biscuit. She had thought that things might be easier after quitting her apprenticeship, but if anything she now thought it might be harder. They were no longer together on a daily basis. They would have to make a concerted effort to see each other. It made the whole thing seem suddenly so 'real.'

When she was his apprentice she could pretend that they weren't really dating, because in truth they really weren't. So what if she happened to spend her evenings in front of his fire chatting and playing chess? So what if he occasionally kissed her? But now everything was different. People would see them together and wonder why, especially now that Hermione had stopped working for him.

'Oh, god!' she thought all of a sudden. 'I'll have to tell Ron and Harry.'

She pictured their looks of horror and disbelief when she informed them that she had kissed the hated Potions Professor and not only that but she had enjoyed it and looked forward to doing it again.

Well she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. It was time for some of that courage that had seen her through the war and that first awkward date with Severus. Both of those had turned out well, hadn't they? She put down her stale cookie and looked for quill and a bit of parchment. She had two letters to write—one to her friends and one to Snape.

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter but the next two are in the works and should be both longer and funnier. Have a good weekend everyone!


	3. Cows and Eyebrows

A/N: I am on a roll, folks! I have a new chapter for this story, two more stories started, and An Arranged Marriage is finished and just waiting to be beta read. You can thank the constant snow, (hello it's March!) and my lack of a vehicle, (which combined with the weather makes me loathe to stir from my apartment,) for my sudden burst of creativity.

Also I would like to announce that I have finally finished reading Harry Potter à l'école des sorciers; it only took me four months to read it! Did you know that in the French version Professor Snape is called Professor Rogue? I like that it describes him as a person but you lose the sibilance that comes with Severus Snape. Hogwarts is called Poudlard and muggles are Moldus. Leave it to the French to translate words that Rowling made up! But enough random facts, allons-y!

**Chapter Three— Cows and Eyebrows**

It had not been a good day at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Hermione began to wonder why she had agreed to work there in the first place. Hadn't she watched in her fifth year of school as they tried their joke products on unwitting first years? Why she ever thought that their promise of, "oh you'll just be working on developing potions, you won't actually test them," was anything more than rubbish.

"Are your eyebrows purple?" Severus asked when he came to pick her up for dinner.

"Yes," she snapped. "Earlier today my whole head was this shade. It took me hours to figure out how to reverse it and I still haven't solved the problem of the eyebrows and eyelashes."

"I thought that you wouldn't be testing the potions?" he asked, looking at her strangely.

"Yes, well apparently they decided that I would be much more motivated to find an antidote if I needed it myself."

Would he still want to go to dinner with her looking like this, she wondered. She didn't even know if she wanted to go out sporting violet eyebrows. She could curse Fred and George for ruining both her day and now her evening.

"Maybe we should stay in," Severus offered.

She frowned. She had been looking forward to getting out of her tiny flat, its towers of boxes begging to be unpacked haunting her each evening when she returned home from work.

She shook her head, "I'm still unpacking."

"Still? You do realize that you're a witch and you could do that in minutes with a few waves of your wand?" he asked her snidely.

"That only works if you know _where_ you want things to go. And besides I've had other things on my mind," she retorted, gesturing towards her violet eyebrows. She was not in the mood for his condescending sarcasm.

"The castle then?" he asked. She nodded and took the arm that he offered.

They didn't talk much on the walk back to Hogwarts, and Hermione wondered again if this relationship would work outside of school. The fact that it hadn't worked while she was his apprentice didn't necessarily mean that it would now that she wasn't—maybe they were doomed to fail.

She adjusted her hand in the crook of his arm. He reached his other hand and covered hers, lightly stroking the back of her knuckles.

"I missed you too," she said softly. He tensed at her words. Had she said something wrong? Hadn't he told her that he had missed her in his letter?

"It was indigestion," he said sharply.

"Are you sure one of your students isn't trying to poison you?" she snapped. She expected him to drop her hand, to tell her take her purple eyebrows and go, leaving him alone, but he didn't. Instead his mouth curled up in an almost smile.

"I haven't ruled that possibility out entirely," he said with a hint of irony. She chuckled softly. They lapsed back into silence again, except that this time it was more comfortable.

Once ensconced in his rooms he ordered them dinner from the kitchen.

"Did you really yell at the house elves?" she asked as their dinner appeared.

He gave her an enigmatic look that might have been sexy if she hadn't been too busy thinking about the plight of the common house elf.

She decided not to press the issue at the moment and listened instead as he told her about his week and the latest Hogwarts gossip. She had been engrossed in the dramas that played themselves out both in the staff room and the student common rooms and she had charged him with the responsibility of relaying it to her now that she was out of the castle.

Not that it would have mattered what he told her, just listening to him read the index of _Most Potente Potions_ would have been enough for her at the moment. She had missed his smooth baritone voice that even softened the blow of his disparaging remarks about her cat and her friends.

And on the subject of potions, she wondered if he had any suggestions for her eyebrow problem.

"I rather like them," he told her dryly.

She snorted. "Would you like a matching pair? I'm sure I can arrange it. Maybe it will motivate you to help me."

He moved closer and leaned in until his nose grazed her cheek. "I need little motivation when it comes to you," he said quietly.

"So you'll help me?" she asked, moving her head to look at him, her lips brushing up against his lightly.

"Of course," he said before capturing her lips with his own.

* * *

The night had gotten off to a shaky start but had steadily improved. Severus only hoped it would end well. He had planned on bringing Hermione back to the castle after dinner. The fact that they had decided to skip it only hastened things along.

He had anxiously awaited their date since the moment his owl had returned with a short note in her loopy scrawl, "_Pick me up at 7. Yours, Hermione._"

He only hoped she would be his.

He had planned on wine, candles, and even had gone as far as picking out some 'mood' music. But this impromptu picnic in front of his fire was proving to be even more romantic than he could have hoped for even if her eyebrows were an odd color. He could barely fault her in the looks department. He had no illusions about his appearance, or his personality for that matter. He continued to be surprised that she had initiated and continued to pursue this relationship with him.

However, he was not a man to look a gift horse in the mouth, though he didn't mind gazing at hers. Her lips were less distracting than her eyebrows and simply begged to be kissed. Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to their conversation.

"Minerva and Mrs. Norris got into it again. Why McGonagall insists on trying to 'mark her territory' is beyond me, but it resulted not only in a catfight but a pretty heated argument between her and Flich outside the Great Hall for everyone to hear," he told her.

She had an insatiable appetite for gossip that he found surprisingly attractive. He had always assumed that as a self-declared bookworm that she would have sniffed at such stories, dismissing them as a waste of her time. But it had proven to be quite the opposite. She was still the uptight intellectual but she lived almost vicariously through the melodrama of others.

"Really?" she exclaimed. He nodded and bit back the sarcastic reply that threatened to escape. Of course 'really.' Did she honestly think he was lying to her?

"She would never say it but I think she was glad to see, if not me, then Crookshanks go," she told him.

"I think everyone was glad to see that furball monster go," he replied scathingly. He doubted the wisdom of her associations on a regular basis, (her best friends did include Potter and Weasley,) but her choice in a pet only solidified his opinion that she had no taste in people or animals.

When she changed the topic to her purple eyebrows, he used the opportunity to compliment her. For all of his life he had never seen the purpose of complimenting other people. He had never received them and so he never gave them, but though he knew practically nothing about women and wooing them, he did know that they liked to be complimented. Trying out some generic ones in front of the mirror, he had decided to stick to sincere ones flowing from the conversation at hand instead.

So he was a little surprised and disappointed when she had responded indignantly to him expressing that he "rather liked" her eyebrows. It wasn't true of course. They were a hideous color that was ill suited to her complexion.

Best to stick with sincerity from now on, but tempered with tact, he reminded himself. If it wasn't for the fact that he enjoyed her company more than anyone else's he never would have bothered. He certainly didn't hold back what he really thought with most people; of course he didn't care what most people thought of him either.

But all thoughts of other people left as he finally pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss. After several minutes he gently leaned into her, testing to see if she would yield. She did. Slowly he angled them from sitting to a more reclined position, with Hermione beneath him, his body covering most of hers.

Her hands that had been innocently perched on his shoulders when they started snaked around his neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp before moving downward, rubbing and up down his back. He shifted his own hands from her shoulders and underneath her to her front. One hand cupped her face while he pressed small kisses at the corner of her mouth, teasing her, before kissing her again more deeply, while his other hand maneuvered itself under her jumper.

Her skin was so soft and warm, just like a baby's bottom. Not that he would know and he didn't dwell long on the thought, reminding him too much of the considerable age difference between them. Not like a baby, he decided, but silk, soft, inviting silk.

He fanned his hand out over her stomach. She tensed and he could feel a faint smile as he continued to kiss her. So she was ticklish. He filed away that tidbit of knowledge for future use as his hand slid further north. She moaned almost inaudibly into his mouth, and the sound of it made his blood run hot like fire. But just as he moved his hand to where he hoped would illicit more such moans from her, he felt her pushing him away.

"I think we should stop there," she said, sitting up. He looked at her in confusion.

"I don't see…" he started.

"I mean, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, right?" she asked, laughing nervously.

He stared at her, still reeling from their encounter and its abrupt end. She had pushed him away to talk about farm animals? Had his touches really repulsed her? She had seemed to be enjoying it. He didn't understand this sudden rebuff. He watched warily as she smoothed down her hair that had been tousled by his hands. Her face was flushed and when she turned and smiled at him, it took everything in him not to push her back down on the couch, tell her to forget the cow, and cover her mouth with his.

What had he done wrong?

TBC


	4. Blue and Lavender

A/N: An extra long chapter by my normal standards. I hope you enjoy it! I must say I'm having lots of fun writing this story!

**Chapter Four—Blue and Lavender**

The night before had proven confusing for Hermione and as usual she tried to analyze the situation using logic and reason.

How many dates had they been on so far? There was the first that had been so awkward at Merlin's. They had gone to the lecture and then to dinner on the second, ending the night under the mistletoe.

And then…well and then they had decided that dating while she was his apprentice would be a bad idea. Certainly she had sat in front of his fire before, and she had kissed him once or twice more, but if she wanted to be technical then this had only  
been their third date.

Was she the type of girl to do what she had been wanting to do last night after only two 'real' dates? She didn't need legilimency to tell her that he had wanted much more last night, and she wasn't all that sure she was ready to give that. But neither did she want to discourage him either. After years of having boys as friends, she understood that though they appeared rough and tough, their egos could be as frail as spun glass. It was all too confusing!

Hermione needed help and the only person she could think of that was anywhere near qualified to give it to her happened to be Lavender Brown.

"HiLavenderIneedsomeadviceonromance," Hermione said quickly when Lavender opened her door.

"You?" she asked. "You need advice from me?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted meekly.

"The great Hermione Granger who said romance novels were a waste of the paper they were printed on?" Lavender accused her.

She nodded. Had she said that? She didn't remember saying that; it must have been sometime before she discovered Molly Weasley's cache of the witch's equivalent to Harlequin. She had read dozens the summer before her seventh year, not that she would ever admit that to _anyone_.

"The great Hermione Granger who dumped an internationally famous Quidditch player because it interfered with her school work?"

"That's unfair! There were other considerations at the time, one of them being his interest in the Dark Arts," Hermione protested.

"The great Hermione Granger who hung around the two cutest boys of our year and never gave either one a second glance?"

"Are you done?" she snapped. Scary how much she was beginning to sound like Severus, but really, if anyone deserved it, it was Lavender. Of course she couldn't be too short with her, she did need her help after all.

"Not yet," Lavender said. Hermione waited while she tried in vain to come up with something else. With a look of consternation, she admitted defeat.

"Fine, I'm done. You can come in," she said motioning her through the door.

She ushered her into a small living room whose walls were covered with flowers on a putrid pink background. Hermione didn't realize that one person could own so many knick knacks.

While trying to ignore the set of unicorn figurines that ambled back and forth on a crowded shelf, Hermione explained her dilemma—how she wanted to both let Severus know that she liked him but also that she wanted to take things slower.

"But who is the lucky man?" Lavender pressed her after she had finished. Hermione had hoped to leave Severus' name out of this. It could only result in cries of outrage and disgust, wasting precious time and possibly resulting in a refusal to dispense any advice. Snape didn't have any friends among his former students, and Hermione thought that Lavender might not be happy to see him find love.

"You don't know him," she lied.

"He's a teacher though."

"Well, yeah. How did you know?" she asked and then instantly regretted it. Lavender had been Trelawney's sycophant since third year and she could already see that misty brainless look crossing her face.

"My inner eye," Lavender said gravely. Hermione tried hard not to laugh at the sudden transformation from giggly gossip monger to the affected serious pose of a "true Seer."

"I predicted long ago that you would either fall in love with a teacher or become a teacher," she told Hermione.

"How long ago?" she asked suspiciously.

"Last month."

"Last month? Lavender I was Snape's apprentice last month. You do realize that the purpose of becoming an apprentice is to study so that one day I can teach the same subject." This was exactly why she had stormed out of Trelawney's classroom all those years ago…well as much as one can storm down a rope ladder.

"Yes," she huffed. "So?"

"Well, I was working towards becoming a teacher and I was with teachers every day so the likelihood that I would fall in love with a teacher was much greater and the probability of me becoming a teacher was 100! So you're 'prediction' doesn't seem all that extraordinary."

"If you put it like that," Lavender said. "Of course, you're not his apprentice anymore and there aren't that many teachers at Hogwarts to fall in love with are there?"

Well there was that.

"It's not like I predicted you would fall for Snape," Lavender laughed.

Well there you go, Hermione thought. Her contemptuous regard of Divination could remain unchanged. She decided to move this conversation along onto the part where Hermione was helped so she could leave.

"So what should I do?" she asked.

"I'll tell you what my grandmother always told me…Always leave 'em wanting more," Lavender said, giggling.

"What does that mean?"

"It means play hard to get, don't make it too easy for him. Men are hunters by nature. They like the chase and if something is too easily gotten then maybe it wasn't worth having like they thought."

Well she had already done that. He certainly had looked disappointed when she had cut their make-out session short. But she didn't want to confuse him. This would take careful handling, she thought. Not manipulation, per say, but something very close.

* * *

After Hermione's abrupt departure last night, Severus needed advice on how to proceed. There were only two people in the world, outside Hermione, that he could stand to talk to for more than three minutes, which meant that he would have to ask either Albus or Minerva. He decided on Minerva, being a woman he hoped she had some insight to the female mind, and besides Albus was nearing 150 and was still hopelessly alone.

He decided to go to her office instead of asking her in the Great Hall or in the staffroom where he risked being overheard by the other teachers, or god forbid, a student. He listened intently for gossip to tell Hermione but he would work hard to ensure none of it pertained to him, her, or their relationship, however dubious that happened to be at the moment.

"Severus!" McGonagall exclaimed when she saw him. "It must be something important; you never visit me in my office."

"It is," he said tersely. She motioned for him to sit down while he explained his problem, trying to use as few words as possible. He wanted to get this over with quickly so he could fix whatever the problem was and he and Hermione could get back to doing whatever they were meant to be doing at this stage in their relationship.

"She said something about buying milk and selling cows," he told her. Minerva looked at him confused.

"Are you sure that's what she was talking about?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," he snapped. It was, wasn't it? But in all honesty he had still been recovering from her kisses for him to have really heard her.

"I don't what to tell you, Severus," Minerva said. "Except that women are rarely forthright creatures. You are going to have to learn to read between the lines. Listen to what she's not saying as much as what she is saying."

What she's not saying! Read between the lines? His head felt muddled at the prospect of trying to figuring out the enigma that was Hermione Granger. He wondered again if it would be better to resort to legilimency. In fact, he surmised it was just situations like this that the magical art had developed in the first place. He decided to mull the matter over and then decide his plan of action.

Arriving back in his quarters, he found an owl waiting for him. It held in its beak a short letter written in Hermione's hand. His heart skipped a beat. Was this a note telling him she never wanted to see him again after he had forced himself on her last night?

_I need you! Please hurry, Hermione_.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he read her note. He had been expecting something much worse. He probably deserved something worse, but he decided not to dwell on it, instead he wondered why she felt the need to send such an urgent message. Perhaps she was feeling bad about last night; perhaps she had realized that she _needed_ him after all; or perhaps her drain was clogged and she needed a 'man' to fix it. That seemed the most likely situation. Arriving at her flat, he realized it was neither. There had been another accident at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.

"Are you blue?"

"Do you mean am I sad or is my entire body a lovely shade of royal blue?" she snapped.

"Both." He stared at her in disbelief. Her skin, usually pale with a few freckles, now resembled that of a Cornish pixie.

"Yes, I'm blue. There was an accident at work today," she said before collapsing into tears. Her whole body shook and she appeared to be having trouble breathing.

"I don't know what to do," she wailed. At least that was what he thought she said. He strained to understand her through the sobs, but he quite agreed with her. He had seen someone cry before, but usually they were crying at something he had said. He tried hard every year to make at least one first year cry the first week of class. Last year he had managed three on the first day—his personal best. But though he was quite experienced in making a person cry he knew practically nothing about helping someone stop.

And he definitely wanted her to stop. She looked horrible with her face purple, (apparently that was the color blue skin turned when it was flushed,) blotchy, and with stuff leaking from her nose. He tried patting her gently on the shoulder, but to his horror, she took this as a cue to throw herself into his arms. Now her tears and other bodily liquids were seeping into the front of his shirt, but he didn't think she would appreciate it if he pushed her away and grabbed for his wand. That's what he wanted to do, but instead, he held her until she finished.

"Do you want some milk?" he asked. Minerva had mentioned reading between the lines and he had figured that her odd speech about cows and milk had been her strange way of telling him she had been thirsty, although he was a little offended that she had chosen that moment to bring it up. But he was determined to play the sensitive and caring date now. He had been a spy for years, forced to pander to the Dark Lord, pretending that he agreed with every grandiose but equally idiotic idea. Certainly he could handle this, couldn't he?

"Milk?" she asked, looking confused.

"Or something else to drink?"

"No, I'm fine now." She didn't look fine to him. She still trembled slightly from where she had been crying and her skin remained an awful shade of cyan. She even smelled blue, like slightly rotten blueberries.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

It was official. He was crazy about her. He would have to be, to be sitting here with her in his arms while she cried on his shoulder and instead of snapping at her and pushing her away, instead he encouraged her to 'talk about it.'

"From the first day of sixth year I had the rest of my life planned out. I was going to apprentice with you in Potions. I wanted to teach at Hogwarts or maybe Beauxbatons and I was going to invent a cure for one of the Unforgivables. I wanted to get married and have one or two kids, who would be magical, of course, and I would live happily ever after."

"Life rarely goes the way we plan it," he said sardonically, thinking about the Mark on his arm.

"I know," she sniffed. "I just don't think this job is going to work out. I'm going crazy every day thinking there might be something in my coffee and usually there is, something that turns me blue!" Tears started streaming down her face again. Severus tried not to sigh too loudly. It appeared it was going to be a long night.

"Then quit."

"And do what?"

"Anything," he said, clutching her closer to him. Amazing how well she fit him, he thought, as she snuggled close, her arms reaching up to encircle his neck while he ran his hands up and down her back.

"Everything," he whispered in her blue ear.

"I just don't know," she murmured against his neck. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that his scheming to convince her to quit her apprenticeship with him had put her in this position, but he ignored it and instead dwelled on the fact that sitting here like this with her in arms had been worth seeing her nervous breakdown moments earlier. Suddenly he heard a loud crack of someone apparating.

"Hermione! We need to talk to you about…YOU!"

The bane of his existence, Harry Bloody Potter, strode into the room, Ron Weasley trailing behind, with murderous looks on both their faces.

* * *

A/N: Sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger! I seem to be doing that a lot lately, but I was having trouble knowing where to end this chapter, it was either really short or neverending. 


	5. Confrontations

A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews, but remember never-ending also means never posted! Glad you liked it though.

**Chapter Five**

The bane of his existence, Harry Bloody Potter, strode into the room, Ron Weasley trailing behind, with murderous looks on both their faces.

"What have you done to her?" Ron yelled.

"I haven't done anything but calm her down after your brothers decided to spike her morning coffee," Severus said calmly, sliding his hand over to the pocket where he stored his wand, just in case he needed it. He wouldn't mind throwing a few hexes at these two; he had never been offered the chance while they had been at school. Dumbledore frowned on cursing misbehaving students, preferring the teachers to take house points or issue detentions instead, but that wasn't nearly as therapeutic as a well-aimed Entrail-Expelling curse could be.

"Hermione we need to talk, _alone_," Harry said pointedly, barely reigning in his temper.

"No, I don't think so," she said low and dangerous as she stood up. She took a moment to wipe the tears from her cheeks and run her hands through her hair, while the three men in the room just watched, entranced by the blue creature before them. "The last thing I need at the moment is you questioning me."

"But what's happened to you?" Ron said with a pathetic whine.

"Fred and George happened."

"Oh," both boys said as if they had just discovered the twelfth use of dragon's blood. And then much to Severus' annoyance they started to giggle. First, it was just Weasley, and then slowly Potter, until even Hermione had cracked a smile and then finally given in to the laughter.

"I don't see why you're upset, it can't be any worse than the summer after sixth year," Harry said.

"Yeah, at least this time you don't have…," Ron said, laughing so hard now that he couldn't get out the last word.

At least she didn't have what? What? The frustration at being left out of this conversation started to mount, followed by frustration at the fact that Severus even wanted to be in a conversation that not only included Potter and Weasley but giggling. Why did they get to be the ones to make her laugh about being blue while he was relegated to crying duty? It didn't seem fair. He certainly didn't like being jealous of those two morons. This had gone on long enough, he decided. Standing, he put his hands on her shoulder, both to remind her that he was still there and to irritate the boys. It worked only slightly. The giggling slowly came to a halt and ended with Hermione still tittering while Potter and Weasley resumed glaring.

"Thanks, I really needed that," she told them, wiping new tears from her face, these from laughing too much.

"About your note," Harry prompted.

"Yes, alright. I knew you wouldn't be happy, but I am, and that's what is important, isn't it?" she asked, sounding tired and more like the Hermione he had first encountered earlier in the evening.

"But, but…," Ron sputtered.

"But what? It's Snape? You're right and I would explain it if I could, but I can't other than I enjoy his company. He makes me laugh, he makes me think, and he makes me happy," she said, pulling away from his hands on her shoulders and kissing each boy on the cheek. "Now get out of my house, so I can get back to snogging him senseless."

"Hermione," Harry said, looking stricken at the idea of her kissing Snape.

"Go," she ordered. "I'll owl you tomorrow and we can meet for lunch later this week." Finally convinced, they acquiesced and apparated away with a loud pop.

Severus sat back down, processing everything that had just happened. She liked him, really liked him. He knew because she had said so and for some reason this both excited and frightened him. And she had mentioned snogging him senseless, but the other night when he had tried just that she had pushed him away. She sat next to him and reached for his hand.

"Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, perplexed and irritated. He hadn't been the one to make her accept her "blueness," that had been Harry bloody Potter and Ron the Weasel.

"That could have gone a lot worse."

"I almost wish it had," he said. His wand had never left its pocket, he felt as though he had missed a prime opportunity. If he had acted faster, he might have been able to hex the two to oblivion and then claim it had been in her honor. Looking over at her, he wondered if she would have accepted that as an excuse though. She was rather protective of her friends, loyal too. Of course, she now included him in that category. She would protect him. She would be loyal to him. And it would be him she would be snogging senseless and not them. He needed his own category, however, something more than friend.

He looked up to discover she had crawled back into his lap and was stroking his face fondly.

"I'm glad it didn't," she said smiling. "Just think of the mess you three would have made. And if they had blown you to bits I wouldn't be able to do this." She leaned down and kissed him. He kissed her back until he realized exactly what she had said.

"What makes you think that I wouldn't have blown them to bits?" he asked indignantly.

"If you made it this long without killing Harry then I seriously doubt you would succumb now."

"Yes, but before I had to protect him so that he could defeat You-Know-Who. Now that's he gone, I would have no problem of ridding myself of him forever." She frowned and he realized suddenly that he had said the wrong thing. Who cared if it was how he really felt. How he really felt about Harry Potter was not going to get him snogged senseless.

"And this time I would have been defending your honor," he added. She considered that for a moment.

"I can defend my own honor, thank you very much."

"Is that why you are a sporting color of blue?" he asked sarcastically, knowing full well that he should back up, apologize, and say nothing else stupid if he wanted to continue kissing her, but old habits tended to die hard.

"That had nothing to do with it," she protested and he could see that she was working herself up into a giant rant. He needed to do something quick.

"You're right," he said, trying to kiss her again, but she turned her head and he got her cheek instead. He hadn't admitted that he was wrong but surely she could see he was trying by saying she was right. But it didn't appear as if she understood that at all.

"My honor…"

"Wait," he interrupted. He noticed that her face was slightly less blue where he had just kissed her. Perhaps the spell was starting to wear off. He tested his theory by licking the rim of her ear.

"What are you doing?" she asked, somewhat piqued that he interrupted the beginning of her tirade on women's rights.

"I'm solving your problem," he said. "It's wearing off."

"Really! That's terrific!" She threw her arms around his neck once more and kissed him. Potter and Weasley could make her laugh, but could they fix her problem? The answer was no. And when he thought about it, she hadn't called either of them to help her. She had called him. The foul mood that he had sunk into began to lift.

"Do you think a shower would get the rest off?" she asked, bounding off the couch.

"Well, as much as I would like to do it myself, we would be here all week, so yes, a shower sounds like the next best idea." However much he wanted to take Hermione to bed, his fantasies had yet to include her in the part of the 'blue nymph.' He watched as she flounced off in the direction of the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway and turned back.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

"See you tomorrow," she asked expectantly. He nodded.

* * *

Hermione had been so preoccupied after her visit with Lavender that she had let her guard down, and her coffee cup out of her sight. The rest of the day had been a flurry of anger, tears, and confusion. Severus had come to the flat and sat with her while she sobbed her uncertainties about the future—how the apprenticeship hadn't worked out, how the job at the Weasley's wasn't working, how she had no idea what to do. She was surprised, actually, at the amount of sensitivity he had shown. He hadn't snapped at her, but had just held her until she finished. It was everything she needed at the moment. And then when Ron and Harry had shown up ready to rescue her from his evil clutches, she had been certain that her flat would be destroyed and someone would be killed. But that hadn't happened either. Given the circumstances, the night had progressed relatively smoothly, but it had been draining. She couldn't remember a time recently when she had been so spent emotionally. She marveled at her luck while she worked the next day.

"Hey Hermione! Want some coffee?" Fred asked, stopping by her workstation where her cauldron was set up.

"No, thank you," she said icily, patting a small flask on her hip. "I have some right here."

"Becoming a bit like Mad-Eye Moody aren't we?" he laughed.

"Working here tends to bring out the paranoia in me," she said. "By the way, I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"I'm giving you my notice," she said. She had decided to take Severus' advice. He was right she could do anything and working here would only serve to make her crazy. He had worked in a job that he obviously hated for years and looked at how he had turned out—not for the best, even if she thought there was a lot to like.

"That's great!" Fred said with a grin.

"Great?"

"Yeah, that means I win the pool."

"The pool?" she asked, her voice raising in pitch, a sure sign of impending wrath.

"George and I were really surprised when you took the job. We figured you wouldn't last long in our "unique" working environment, so we started a pool."

"So, you were spiking my coffee in order to run me off?" she said, her voice even higher. Her hand moved to her wand.

"Oh, no. We would have done that regardless. It'll be a shame to lose you. You're a genius when it comes to potions." Hermione nodded tersely, her lips pursed and her fists balled. She turned back to her work, knowing that if she said anything in response it would be in the form of a curse.

She didn't know if she should be relieved or hurt that the twins hadn't thought her strong enough to work for them. George stopped by later and tried to convince her that she should stay a little longer. Apparently, he had thought she was made of tougher stuff than Fred and had predicted she would last at least until Valentine's Day.

"Plus, we really need your help on our new Shakespeare's Sonnets Solution. The drinker speaks nothing but sonnets for up to half an hour after drinking it—very romantic," George pleaded.

"I know about the pool, George," she told him flatly.

"An even better reason to stay then," he said with a mischievous smile. But she noticed that he backed away from her in case she decided to whip out her wand. Both Weasleys were still recovering from the damage she had done them the day before after the Blue Incident.

But George had reminded her of something—Valentine's Day. She was going to have to buy Severus something. But what? The only gift she had bought for him before had been a gift certificate her parents had given to her on which she had changed the name. She didn't think he would like something like a singing Valentine, though she was tempted. But if she couldn't be there to see him receive it in the crowded Great Hall then it wouldn't be worth the trouble she would face later for it. He liked her, but she didn't think it extended that far, not yet anyway. Potions supplies were too impersonal, and she didn't know what books he owned and which he didn't. It was a puzzle for sure, but Hermione loved a puzzle.


	6. Plots

A/N: I profusely apologize to those people who saw the first version of this that included my outline for the story. I hope finding out my plan for the ending doesn't ruin it for you.Besides, you're all smart readers, surely you can figure out what going to happen even without my notes tacked on the end!Hope this is worth the wait, and the stupid mistake.

**Chapter Six--Plots**

Listening to Flitwick chatter on about decorating the Great Hall for Valentine's Day had reminded Severus that that damned holiday was soon approaching. Although, this year he hoped he wouldn't be stalking the halls in search of hormone crazy teenagers who fancied themselves in love to the point that they broke curfew. He hoped to spend it with Hermione. He would take her to dinner, and then maybe a moonlit broom ride, or perhaps, a carriage enchanted to fly. Some bauble from Diagon Alley would suffice in earning her gratitude. And maybe…he hoped that if he could create the perfect romantic atmosphere then she would reward him with her affections. He mulled over the idea all day, interrupted only by Dumbledore asking him to pass the salt at dinner, and the arrival of Hermione, herself, later that night.

"I did it," she announced immediately after stepping out of the fireplace.

"Did what?" he asked sharply. He hated when people started conversations as if they were in the middle of them rather than at the beginning. He may be able to read minds, but that didn't mean he particularly liked to do it all the time. It was much easier if people would just tell him what they meant from the start.

"I quit my job," she said. Oh that. Yes, he had told her that she should, hadn't he. He wasn't known for giving good advice, mainly because most people were too frightened to ask him for it in the first place. It felt strangely satisfying to know that she trusted his judgment enough to follow it.

"What now?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, leaning back into the couch and sighing deeply. "Maybe I could get a job at the Ministry. I certainly have enough contacts there between Mr. Weasley, Percy, Ron, and Harry. Surely one of them could set up an interview with someone, maybe in Developmental Potions." He shook his head.

"I'm sure they could get you an interview but you would need to finish an apprenticeship before they would seriously consider you."

"Oh." She looked disappointed and worried, chewing on her bottom lip and staring at her hands. Another annoying twinge of guilt assailed him. He had been the one to put her in this mess, but there was no way he would offer to take her on again. He would accept her under him in only one fashion, and it would not be as his apprentice. But he could certainly steer her away from potions altogether.

"Are you certain potions are what you want to do anyway? You excelled in all your classes. I think maybe you chose potions because I was the one professor that never openly sang your praises."

"And now?" she said, teasing him, and scooting closer. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him.

"I never could carry a tune." He angled his mouth over hers, kissing her.

This time he managed to work his hand up under her shirt, caressing her through her bra before she put an end to things. She pulled her lips from his, and gently guided his hand back down and from under her shirt, while he took the opportunity to explore her neck with his tongue.

"I have to go," she said, stifling a giggle as he hit a ticklish spot.

"No, you don't," he protested. "You told me that you quit your job. You have nowhere to be in the morning. I don't have class until 10. We have all night."

But she pulled away anyway. Standing up, she straightened her robes and smoothed her hair.

"I have a lot to do tomorrow precisely because I quit my job. There are contacts to be made, research to be done, opportunities to be explored."

"Don't go," he said, reaching for her hand while waving goodbye to the last shred of his dignity.

"I really should" He sighed the sigh of the defeated, dropping her hand.

"Goodnight then," he said curtly, ignoring the hurt look on her face.

"Goodnight. I'll see you later this week." There wasn't a question mark at the end of her statement, but it was a rather hesitant period. He nodded, and she leaned down and kissed his cheek. She walked to the fireplace, and he watched as she disappeared in a flash of green fire.

He should have known better than to ever engage in this sort of nonsense. He was worse than any of the students he found hiding in alcoves and behind rosebushes. He had lost control of this situation, and he didn't like it. Action needed to be taken. On second thought, he didn't think that a romantic evening for Valentine's Day would be enough. He had romanced her. He had offered comfort and advice while she sobbed into his shoulder. He had ignored her purple eyebrows and blue skin. Surely, he had gone above and beyond the duty of the average suitor, (he refused to use the term boyfriend,) and yet he had nothing to show for it. She might as well be Minerva or Sprout for all the action he saw.

Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, he realized. He cringed at the thought of cuddling up to McGonagall, and the thought of kissing her made his stomach turn. But he was only a man, and previously a very lonely one at that. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. Except of course, he reminded himself, that he would have to do anything and everything it would take because he refused to entertain the alternative. He had spent enough time alone in his dungeons in the last twenty years. There had been no women, not even the possibility of a woman down there with him until Hermione. And if he was truthful with himself, he didn't want another woman, (even if there were to be another woman, which there wasn't.) He wanted Hermione.

But it appeared that his charm and winning personality would not be enough to win her over. He hated to think about it, but he might have to resort to insidious measures to win her over. Subterfuge had worked when he wanted her to quit her apprenticeship, and he felt certain that it would work again.

But what to do, what to do?

A love potion would be too obvious since she had spent a considerable amount of time studying potions. She would recognize one too easily for his purposes. The inspiration hit. A cupid, that might just work. Hit with an arrow, she would be falling all over him with declarations of love, and he hoped demonstrations.

'Well, so much for being sneaky and manipulative,' Hermione thought as she tumbled through the green flames. He had been insistent, and she couldn't ignore the hurt and angry look on his face when she rejected him. It hadn't been easy to leave, but it would have been harder to stay. Hermione had been uneasy about this relationship from the start. At first, because of the improper nature of it, the imbalance of power between master and apprentice. Afterwards, when that particular barrier was removed it was because she was afraid of being hurt. He was an exacting and demanding man. He could be cold and cutting, not the kind of person you simply handed your heart to on a whim. But he had proven that he had depths unforeseen until recently. Never in her wildest imagination would she have imagined him holding and comforting her.

'Rocking her blues away literally and figuratively,' she thought with a wicked grin. He had offered her support, and had resisted the urge to hex her obnoxious friends. And he clearly wanted her.

Valentine's Day loomed larger in her vision than before. She would need something particularly special, so that he would realize her feelings for him. Why couldn't he understand that she was scared? Her entire life had fallen to pieces in little less than a month. She no longer had a job or any sort of career path to speak of, she found herself dating her former professor to the shock and horror of her friends, and now said boyfriend was pressuring her to take the relationship farther faster than she was ready for. What was a girl to do?

The obvious answer of course was to consume large amounts of chocolate; it wasn't just good for Dementors. Hermione broke into her emergency stash of chocolate frogs while contemplating the matter of Severus and Valentine's Day. And then suddenly the perfect idea came to her. She smiled, catching her last frog before he could jump away. She may not have a job, but she would have her man.

Standing in front of Professor McGonagall the next day, Hermione began to doubt the validity of her plan. What had seemed so clear to her the night before had dulled to something more hazy, especially when confronted with her former, but still very stern, Transfiguration professor.

"I'm not quite sure I understand what you're asking, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, motioning for Hermione to sit. The older woman seated herself behind her desk, while Hermione took the chair usually reserved for wrong-doers and those with failing grades. She had never sat in this chair, not even after some of her and her friends' more daring escapades.

"I want you to let Professor Snape out of chaperoning the next Hogsmeade weekend," she stated in what she hoped was a professional tone.

"Yes, yes, I understand what you are asking. What I don't comprehend is why."

"He complains about having to do it. He tries his hardest to insure that the students have no fun. And besides that he is a decorated war hero, who deserves a break from the dunderheads he is forced to teach everyday."

"You of all people should be used to his complaining by now. And as a teacher of this school, he is required to share in the responsibilities over the students, which includes Hogsmeade weekends. Now why do you really want him out of this?"

"Valentine's Day is coming up and I wanted to surprise him with a nice day—a student free day. Technically the holiday is on Thursday but he'll have classes and will most likely be crabby, but if he found out he didn't have to accompany the upper forms to Hogsmeade…well, I think it would be a nice present. And I need a really great present at the moment."

"And why is that?" Professor McGonagall asked. Hermione hesitated in answering. What if Severus found out she was asking McGonagall for advice on their relationship? Would he ever forgive her?

But she really did need help. She had consulted her romance novels and had come up short. It seemed that many romantic heroines were all too happy to heave their breasts and fan the flames of love, (or was that lust?) Not one of them wanted to wait until they had discovered whether or not their prospective lover had any dark secrets, such as did he chew with his mouth open? But then again she was just plain old Hermione, (the women in the books always seemed to have exotic names like Estrella or Cassandra,) and her tiny breasts barely registered as such, let alone did any heaving. The women in these books all seemed helpless, dim, and oh so happy for the Lord of the Manor to save them. She certainly wasn't any of those three. She had helped defeat the Dark Lord, enjoyed more than just romantic walks on the beach, and though Severus had plenty of dark secrets in his past, he was no Lord and he had no manor house.

So, after a deep breath she told her.

"Ah, it all makes sense now," McGonagall said when she finished. Hermione looked at her perplexed. What made sense exactly? She was just as befuddled as before.

"I think you're going about it the right way. I'll let him off the hook this time, but only if you promise me something," Minerva continued.

"Anything!" Hermione said, relieved to hear she was going down the right path.

"Excellent. I'm so glad to hear that." Hermione looked a little worried after hearing her professor's request, but she reminded herself that it was for Severus, it was for Severus.


	7. Miscalculations

**Chapter Seven**

McGonagall wanted a potion.

And so Hermione stood in Severus' lab brewing a noxious green potion for her former head of house. She tried hard not to think about what she would have to do with said potion, but it was hard to keep her mind from wandering in that direction. It had taken quite a lot of chocolate to get her to this point. She might be a courageous Gryffindor who had faced a Dark Lord and his Death Eaters but that didn't mean she was prepared to face McGonagall's 'special problem' without something to help her get through it.

"What kind of potion?" she had asked, happy to have secured Professor McGonagall's promise that Severus could have the day off. "Why don't you just ask Severus to brew it?"

"Because it is for a very personal problem I would rather he not be privy to," the older woman had said harshly. Hermione began to wonder what she had gotten herself into.

"What is it?" she asked bravely, and then wondered if perhaps it might have been better to have been sorted into Hufflepuff all along. Bravery was so often overrated.

"This past Christmas Peeves dropped a "Grow Your Own Warts" packet into my mulled wine. I had already been celebrating quite a bit already, if you take my meaning, and I didn't notice the bitter taste until it was too late," McGonagall explained.

Hermione paled.

"But what can I do?"

"There's a potion that can clear up the problem in a jiffy, but I'm too inept with potion making myself, and there certainly was no way I was asking Severus to do it for me."

Hermione agreed with her teacher's decision. It would not be a good idea to hand such ammunition to Severus, McGonagall's clear rival in house matters, on a silver platter like that. But that didn't mean that she wanted to do it.

"I'll also need your help in applying it."

"Applying it?" Hermione asked, her breath catching in her throat as her imagination ran away from her. Sometimes having a large and efficient brain was a burden too heavy to bear as thoughts of sagging skin covered in warts overwhelmed her.

"Yes it's a lotion. I'll need help with the areas I can't reach, like my back."

"Right," Hermione nodded, reminding herself it was for Severus. She could do this. She would do this. She was doing this, and she just hoped that she would be able to finish up before Severus got back from his classes.

She was just finishing up the last step when he strode through the door coming to a halt when he saw her.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded harshly. Hermione frowned at him.

"We have a date tonight. It's Valentines' Day." He turned around quickly, whispered something out the door, and then slammed it shut. Hermione looked at him bewildered. He was acting awfully strangely.

"You're early." He didn't look happy about this, surprised even. She wondered if maybe he still had some work to do on her present. But still that was no reason to snarl at her, not that he ever needed a reason to snarl at anyone.

"I'm just brewing a potion. You said I could use your lab whenever I wanted."

"I said that?" he asked, obviously not believing her. Actually, he hadn't. But she really thought that he should have. After all, she had given up her apprenticeship with him so that they could continue their romantic relationship. If she could sacrifice her future career as a Potions expert then he could certainly allow her into his lab once in awhile.

She nodded and smiled. He looked at her suspiciously but then decided that it wasn't worth arguing about at the moment. He looked as if he had other more pressing matters to tend right now. Walking over to him, she put her arms around his neck. He stiffened for a moment, as if unsure of what he should do, but then relaxed into her embrace.

"Do you want me to come back later?" she asked with just enough of a pout to ensure that the answer would be no.

"No."

"Did you have a good day?"

"No."

Well, this was going to be a great Valentine's Day with this kind of conversation, Hermione thought. She forced herself to take a breath, relax, and exercise patience. Her patience had grown considerably while in this relationship with Severus, as well as her sarcasm.

"What happened?" she asked, pulling him closer. He wrapped his own arms around her.

"There were singing Valentine's, cupids, students snogging around every corner, and an inordinate amount of the color _pink._" He spat the last word so disdainfully that Hermione giggled. "I suppose you find that funny?"

"No, of course not," she said more serious, but she couldn't keep her lips from quirking. "Is there anything I can do?"

"As a matter of fact there is." He leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her slowly, then moved to nibble lightly on her earlobe.

And then out of nowhere all hell broke loose.

&&&&

Severus had secured the cupid, having engaged the services of one from a company specializing in Valentine's Day products. The conversation between him and the sales clerk, however, had been one of the more humiliating moments in his life.

"And will this be for yourself or for someone else?" The idiot man had asked. He wore bright pink robes covered in exploding hearts, and Severus fought the urge to vomit.

"For me," Severus answered and then suddenly regretted it. He had been a spy for years. Why couldn't he have come up with a lie, something like "no actually our soppy excuse for a headmaster insisted I come and rent some party decorations for the annual staff Valentine's Day party." But no! He had to admit that he _needed_ a cupid in order to secure his love interest.

"Ah," the clerk said, giving him an appraising look, "I suppose you _would_ need a little help." Severus drew his wand with lightning speed with one hand, the other dashing out, grabbing the smaller man around the neck, and pushing him against the wall.

"You are going to be the one to need help unless you keep your opinions to yourself."

"I'm sorry, sir," the toad croaked out. Severus frowned but released him. The coward didn't dare speak until the contract had been signed and the galleons handed over. And even then, he waited until Severus was nearer the door than to him.

"You know it only works if there is a mutual attraction," he sneered.

"No worries there," Severus responded with a wave of his wand. He figured the clerk would be throwing up slugs all over his pretty pink robes for hours. Truly a pity.

But he panicked when he found Hermione in his lab. She wasn't supposed to be there yet. He needed time to place things. He would have to improvise. Not a problem, he could do this. It would be just like that time with Lucius in Bath…well hopefully with a better outcome. He had come a long way since then.

"Wait here," he ordered the cupid. "When I open the door, come in, but stay low. Don't make your move until I give you the signal."

"What's the signal," the little man asked. He had told Severus his name, but Severus had promptly forgotten it. "I know! Why don't you hoot like an owl. Or maybe you could say 'the eagle has landed.'"

"No, you blithering idiot, she'll hear you. I'll just motion to you with my hand. Understand?" The cupid nodded. Severus turned and slammed the door.

Trying to distract her, he pulled her into an embrace and let her kiss him. It was a hard job not becoming engrossed in what her tongue was doing to his person, but he managed to flick his wand, opening the door. Waiting until she was in just the right position, he moved his mouth from her lips up to her ear and then motioned to the cupid to make his move.

He let loose his arrow. It sped towards them, and Severus gasped in anticipation. But then out of nowhere, Hermione pulled away from him.

"N-n…" he started to protest.

"The potion!" she cried.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been enraged that she had blown up a cauldron and created a colossal mess. But he didn't see the green sticky liquid that now covered his workbench and floor. He didn't smell the burnt wood or the noxious fumes of a potion gone bad. He only saw Hermione, his love, his life. He didn't even stop to wonder how that arrow ended up in his chest.


	8. Love Poems

Warning: This descends into depths of corniness yet unseen in my fics. Proceed at your own risk.

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione watched in horror as all of her hard work on McGonagall's potion boiled up and out of its cauldron, spilling out onto the workbench. The stuff certainly was powerful, eating through the wood table with apparent ease. Hermione pictured for a split second applying the same mixture to the Transfiguration professor's back and wondered if she had maybe missed a step or two. Certainly, it would be strong, but not like this.

The second thought that sprang to her mind was Severus, or rather Severus' anger. He was going to be furious with her. And to think all of it had been for his benefit. She wondered if he would take any of that into consideration before heaving her out of his dungeons.

She turned around, an apology on her lips, when she saw the arrow protruding from his chest.

"Severus!" she cried, pointing at the arrow just in case he had somehow missed the fact that he had been shot. He seemed to not care, looking down at it only after she pointed it out. Pulling it out, he tossed it to one side.

"Tis but a flesh wound," he said glibly. "The pain is nothing to compared to the agony I feel when you are not by my side."

Hermione gaped in horror. She wasn't sure which was more frightening, the potion that had eaten its way through the wood table and was now sizzling on the stone floor or the way Severus was acting. He was smiling for one thing. And not the normal sexy little smirk that he gave her when she said something clever but a genuine show-your-teeth soppy kind. He hardly looked like himself. It was…unnatural.

He strode to her side, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply. She gasped in surprise at this sudden onslaught. She had just ruined a potion, wasting his ingredients and damaging his lab. And instead of yelling and cursing, he was kissing her. Just where did that arrow come from?

"Soul meets soul on lover's lips," he quoted when he finally pulled away.

"Are you okay? What was that?" Hermione asked, feeling his chest where the arrow had hit him. That was odd. There didn't seem to be any hole. It was if it had never happened. But she had seen it. And he had pulled it from his chest himself. She wondered if maybe this was just an extraordinary dream.

"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us," he said. That was no answer! Lies within us? Just what did he mean by that? Hermione was confused, and the potion fumes were doing little to help her figure out just what was going on.

"I think perhaps we should get you to the infirmary. There must have been something in that potion that is affecting the both of us." She wiggled out of his embrace and cast a Stasis Charm on the potion, then pulled him from the room. Three Locking Spells later and they were on their way to see Madame Pomfrey.

The dungeons, Hermione soon realized, were quite a ways from the hospital wing. And with Severus hanging on her like a leech, she wondered if they would ever make it. There was also the problem that he kept pushing her into dark corners and trying to take advantage of her. Not that she normally minded what he was doing with his tongue, however, she was worried for his health, mostly for his sanity.

"I love thee, I love but thee. With a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old," he whispered in her ear after kissing her again.

"Oh!" she squeaked as he kissed his way down her neck. "Umm, thank you."

This sudden onslaught of poetry was confusing her. She had never had particularly romantic lovers before. She had spent most of her time with Victor trying to get him to pronounce her name properly for him to worry about flowery words. Although she supposed some of the Russian phrases he had murmured into her hair might have been poetry, but she wouldn't know. Ron was well...Ron. She didn't think he had ever read any poetry, let alone be able to quote it to her. Most of their relationship had consisted of worrying about Harry and consoling each other with quick kisses in between classes.

Should one respond with poetry? She couldn't think of anything but a line she had read recently from Dorothy Parker--That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.

Hermione was beginning to think that though it might be fitting, it didn't really suit the mood. Frantically, she searched her mind for some rhyme, coming up with, "roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you." Not true but more or less in the spirit of things.

He smiled at her poor attempt. "You're a poet! And I didn't know it." Hermione cringed as he kissed her once more. This was moving from the silly and absurd into painful and awkward. They really needed to get to the infirmary.

"Come on," she said just as two Hufflepuffs rounded the corner headed their way. She didn't want to traumatize them with the image of the Potions master snogging in the hallway. Not to mention she wanted to spare Severus the embarrassment when he finally came to his senses. He seemed not to care about her attempts to save him from himself. He plodded down the hallway behind her, trying to kiss his way up her arm.

"Stop it!" She tried shaking him off but to no avail. "Do you want your students to to see you like this?" She noticed the Hufflepuffs that they had passed were now poking their heads around the corner and stifling giggles behind their hands.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff. Get to class," she said in her best Snape impression. If he wasn't going to act, then she would.

"True love cannot be found where it truly does not exist, nor can it be hidden where it truly does," he purred.

"Oh dear god!" She threw her hands up in the air and walked off. He followed her like a puppy dog, reminding Hermione why she was a cat person. Cats didn't shadow you every moment, their tongues hanging out while they begged for affection. They were sly and sneaky, only gifting you with their attention when they deemed you worthy. It was a compliment they bestowed on a select few. It was one reason she liked Severus. She felt special because she was one of the few, if not the only, person that he smiled at or laughed with. She preferred scowling Severus to puppy-dog Severus. She had half a mind to kick puppy dog Severus and tell him to stop sniffing and licking her.

They finally arrived in the infirmary. But once there, Severus would only sit and submit to Madame Pomfrey's examination if Hermione consented to staying by his side and holding his hand. Despite being fed up with him, she stayed. He looked so helpless and frightened when he wasn't attacking her with kisses and poetry.

"I think I've found the problem," Poppy announced after performing several Diagnostic Spells.

"What is it?" Hermione asked. She hoped it wasn't her ruined potion. She hoped it was something curable.

"He's been shot with a cupid's arrow. There have been a couple loose in the school today. I keep telling the headmaster it's a bad idea, but he never listens to me."

"But how did one get into the dungeons?" Hermione asked, relieved to know this hadn't been her fault.

"I don't know, but it should wear off in an hour or so," Poppy explained. Hermione looked over at Severus. He was looking at her with that soppy look in his eye again, and she kept batting his one hand away from her thighs while holding the other in a death grip.

"There's nothing you can do before then?" she asked.

"So dear I love you that with you, all deaths I could endure. Without you, live no life," Severus quoted while the two women talked.

"I'm afraid not."

"When I envisioned a romantic evening, this was hardly what I had in mind," Hermione said ruefully. Poppy smiled and patted her on the back.

"There now, you should take advantage of the situation. It's not as though you'll ever see him smile or being romantic again," the matron cooed. Hermione pulled Severus up from the bed.

"Let's go," she huffed. How dare the woman suggest that she would want Severus any other way than the way he was. If she wanted romantic verses and moonlight serenades then she would date some weak-kneed sop. As it was, it was going to be hard work not hexing him while she waited for it to wear off.

Luckily for her it didn't last as long as Poppy had predicted. By the time they reached the dungeons, Hermione could tell the worst was over. He was no longer reciting poetry though he did stay glued to her side. She undid the Locking Charms and they entered the room.

"Oh dear Merlin," Severus moaned. "That went horribly, horribly wrong." Hermione looked from the ruined potion to Snape, and nodded her head. It most certainly had.

* * *

A/N: And in order that they appear the quotes belong to Byron, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Shakespeare, Dorothy Parker, Anonymous, and Shakespeare. I'm not counting the Roses are Red poem nor the You're a Poet quote in all that. Please leave a review. Thanks.


	9. A Proposal

**Chapter Nine**

A cupid's arrow is a very powerful thing. And getting over it was no walk in the park. It was like waking very slowly...to discover that you had been on a drinking binge the night before. Severus stumbled after Hermione into the lab. His head pounded. Snippets of poetry ran through his brain, and he felt utterly bereft if she wasn't by his side. The embarrassment had yet to hit him.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said quickly. "I'll clean it up." He surveyed the room, momentarily confused. A noxious potion dripped off what was left of his work bench and spattered on the floor where a green smoke rose up. What had happened?

"Leave it," he ordered her when she stepped away to clean the mess. "My love," he added for no good reason. "The house-elves will take care of it."

It was a show of how worried for him she was that she didn't argue about leaving a potentially dangerous mess for the house-elves to clean.

"Do you want some tea?" she asked after she saw him settled on the couch in his rooms.

"No, darling" he said, trying not throw up at his gratuitous use of pet names. "I want you to stay here with me." He pulled her down onto him. She sighed, but acquiesced. He wrapped his arms around her. Hermione avoided his eyes, burying her head in his chest instead. Probably afraid to look at him lest she prompt more poetry.

It was for the best that he had been hit with the arrow rather than her, he decided. Looking back, he hadn't really thought this plan through, and if it had been Hermione clinging to him like that with such sappy declarations of love, he would not have had the reservoir of patience with her that she had had with him. He would be going back and having another discussion with that sales clerk. They should include warnings with the things!

"I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair.

"It wasn't your fault. The headmaster should know better than to let those things loose in a school full of hormonal teenagers."

Or horny professors as it turned out, Severus thought. But she didn't blame him. She blamed Dumbledore. His luck seemed to be changing. It _did_ sound like just the thing the barmy headmaster would do. Not at all what grumpy Potions professors did. And maybe if he played it right she might want to _comfort_ him. This whole debacle could work in his favor yet. He certainly wasn't stupid enough to tell her the whole thing had been his idea to get into bed.

But even still, it was a hard blow to his ego. She had seen him smile. She had heard him quote Shakespeare. Now that she had a taste of all that, would she be content with his normal sneering self? Still suffering from the effects of the arrow, he ventured to ask.

"Yes, of course," she cooed, looking up at him. Good, good. He didn't want to lose her over this. The whole idea was to keep her around, not drive her away.

She was silent for a moment before asking, "Did you mean those things you said before?"

"No," he said. Her face fell, and a pain ripped through his chest to see it. That wasn't what he meant. "I mean yes," he corrected quickly.

"Well which is it?" she asked indignantly.

"I'm not exactly prone to poetry, Hermione," he said with a sneer. It was a step in the right direction that he was able to sneer at all, although he couldn't but help put a 'love' at the end of her name.

"But the sentiment behind it?"

"Do I love you?" he asked. She nodded. He pondered that for a moment. Did he love her? Truly? He liked being around her. She was one of the few people he could stand to be around. He thought she was beautiful, her smile, that gleam in her eyes, the curve of her breasts. If only she would let him touch her. He reached out to touch her chest. She pulled away with a sad look, her eyes glistening.

"I see," she said. He grabbed her hand as she stood.

"No, wait." She stopped her retreat, turning to look down at him.

Did he love her? She was intelligent and would never bore him. She had a quick and wicked sense of humor and could keep up with him even at his snarkiest. She had proven her patience and willingness to take care of him this evening. He tried to imagine life without her, and resulting images were bleak. He hadn't known how depressing his previous life had been until she had come into it. He was an addict. He couldn't go back to that sad existence now that he had seen what he could have. He realized that it didn't matter if she never let him touch her as long as he could be around her.

It was a sacrifice he was desperately hoping he wouldn't have to make.

"Marry me."

"What?" she asked aghast.

He was shocked himself. Where had that come? Although it would serve his purposes. If she said yes then he would have her all to himself. He never had been one for sharing, and especially not the one person he truly cared for. And if she said no, well then he could just write it off as an aftereffect of the cupid's arrow. Unwittingly, he had stumbled into the best possible proposal situation. He gave himself a mental pat on the back and then waited for her response.

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes."

"It's not the cupid talking?" she asked suspiciously. Damn! He should have known she would want confirmation of his feelings. So much for the pat on the back. His next words might mean the difference between eternal bliss and lonely life as a bachelor, as well as a shag or a slap. Why couldn't women just take what men said at face value?

He tried to discern whether or not her suspicion was likely to mean that she was would say yes or laugh in his face.

"If it was, it would have been much more eloquent than that," he said with a scowl. His head really, really hurt. And his chest stung a bit too.

"So you love me?" He did, but he was rethinking the reasoning behind that with all of these pesky questions.

"Yes, you irritating ninny!" He had been hoping on saving this declaration for the perfect moment, drawing out the tension as she waited, trying to draw out the words from an emotionally stunted man such as himself. They would have meant so much more then. He would have enjoyed the battle of wills. Of course, she probably would have just got impatient and left him. And it looked as though he wasn't getting her into bed without them, so better now than later, he reckoned.

"I love you too," she said, launching herself into his arms.

"Ow!" he complained as she collided with his tender chest.

"Sorry," she said, trying her best to be soothing. It wasn't really working. He would suggest later to her that the medical field might not be the best idea in her continued career search.

"So is that a yes?" he asked irritated when she had finally settled next to him in a position more comfortable to them both.

"To what?" If she was playing hard to get, he was going to throw her bodily from the room. This night was not turning out like he wanted at all.

"To will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes of course."

"Good."

He thought about it for a moment. He always assumed he would remain a bachelor for the rest of his life. Most men who had been solitary as long as he had might have been panicked at the thought at the loss of their freedom, but since he hadn't had much of that anyway, he wasn't all that concerned. And he would be waking up with a warm, feminine body next to him for the rest of his life. Looking down at Hermione, who had snuggled up next to him on the couch, he thought he would certainly look forward to that.

"One more question…."

"No, I will not sleep with you tonight. You're hardly in the condition to at the moment, and you have class in the morning."

He shook his head. If what he thought was true, he was reassessing sleeping with her in the first place. It would definitely have to wait until she brewed that potion _correctly_. But he had just proposed, and he did want to sleep with her eventually, so he tried to be delicate. As delicate as Severus Snape could be at any rate.

"Just what was that potion? And who was it for?" he asked sternly. She looked up at him, guilt written all over her face.

"It was for McGonagall," she said quickly. "And it wouldn't have gone so bad except that you distracted me!" So it wasn't for her. Relief washed over him.

"You thought it was for me!" she exclaimed. He flinched, waiting for the onslaught, but the next thing he knew she was kissing him passionately. He didn't want to be rude, so he responded in kind.

"What was that for?" he asked when she pulled away.

"You must really love me if you proposed anyway," she sighed, kissing him again. He didn't bother to tell her that the cupid's arrow had muddled his brain to the point that he hadn't really thought of it until afterwards, but that was a minor point anyway.

* * *

And they lived happily ever after. Well except for the occasional snarking and that one time they fought to the point that Severus ended back in the hospital. (He was quite irritated to learn that her dueling skills surpassed his own and tried to convince her that it was only because he held back, not wanting to hurt a woman, especially one who was his wife, and all. She hardly believed him, but nodded anyway, feeling guilty at both putting them there and having pride in the ability to do so. Not that she mentioned the last part, though she overdid it on the first, to the point that he snapped at her to shut her gob and bring him some tea.)

The End.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I've enjoyed writing this, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it.


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